Thief's Destiny
by PoisonedNeedles
Summary: A story about George Cooper and his journey to becoming Rogue, The King of Thieves. You don't learn very much about George and I wanted to write a story telling the readers of the Song of the Lioness about his pastand how he became the King of Theives.
1. Chapter 1

The boy cowered in the corner of the dark alley as the searchers came closer. He clutched a loaf of bread in one hand, and in the other the knife that had been thrown at him. He was cold, his shirt ripped and his arm bleeding. He slowed his breathing and crouched farther into the shadows as he heard one of his pursuers curse.

The guards had been more alert today. George hated to steal but he and his mother had had no money since his father, the Rouge was killed in a knife fight. He had sworn to avenge him when he heard. His mother had cried as she held him, keeping him from running out to defy his father's killer then and there.

"What good would it be for you to die as well? Wait, your time to avenge your father will come. He is our king now, and we must servehim well, or perish." It was the first time he had ever seen his mother give in. The wealth his father had once had slowly dwindled, leaving he and his mother to starve in the cold Tortallan winter. He had taken to stealing bread, though he hated the chore. But he knew he was the man of the house now, he had to bring home food for he and his mother. His mother cried the first time he brought home their meager fare, but as any human will, they both grew accustomed to it.

Eleni Cooper was a healer, a good one, and wanted to leave the path her husband had put her and George on. George smiled grimly. It was what she had intended, but as the months passed there was less money and less food. They could not leave the Rouge, never would they be respectable as his mother had told George she once had been, before his father, the king of the Rouge had swept her off her feet.

George abandoned these thoughts and held his breathe. One of his pursuers had stopped to lean against one of the walls forming the alley trying to catch his breath. George could see his glittering mail and the giant broadsword that hung at his waist.

"Gods, haven't we spent enough time searching for the boy?" The guard panted, "We'll never find him in this rat's maze. We must've ran the entire Lower City!" George didn't know how but he knew the other guards were nodding in agreement. He watched them as they all turned and began to make their way through the twisting streets of the Lower City, always on the lookout for thieves much more dangerous than he.

After waiting what he estimated to be one hour he ventured carefully out onto the street. Checking for guards he quickly made his way home vowing never to be seen stealing again. Slipping the dagger in between two loose bricks in the wall he tried his best to cover the wounded arm. Then he slipped quietly through the mother was sitting at their tiny table, head in her hands. As the door shut she raised her head and rushed to wrap her arms around him.

"Where in the Mithros' name have you been?" She asked her voice shaky with unshed tears. "I've had Swiftknife searchin' for you high and low and not a glimpse of you! What possessed you? And what happened to your arm?" George hid a smile as his mother's healers instinct took over and she helped him to strip off his shirt. "Goddess!" She exclaimed as she saw the knife wound. "What'd ye' do to earn this wound George?"

Hesitatingly, he told her of the nights events. He handed her the slice of bread and the wedge of cheese which had caused him such trouble. His mother sighed and put the provisions aside. She kneeled and wrapped him in her arms once again. "This is not what I had planned George. We were to get out of this rat hole. We were to get a house in Corus and become a respectable family. I never wanted it to be like this." George hugged his mother as she wept, feeling her tears wet on his shoulder. He knew they would never become respectable but he had to protect his mother. He had to become a man, even at his young age.

"Someday we will ma. Someday no one will sneer at the name Cooper again." He never let his mother know his plan. To her it would be simply the path of fate. To him it was a carefully guarded secret. He would take the place of his father as the King of the Rouge, something he would never have been able to do had not his da' been murdered. He would lay awake at night, thinking of the paths to his destiny the honorable and the dishonorable. He knew he would one day take the throne and wanted to be honored for it. But he knew he could never tell his mother. It would tear her apart; she had always blamed herself for what he had become.

Years later George had many friends and followers from the Lower City. Lightfingers, his first companion and dearest friend had helped him to gather them. He stood beside George as they looked down on their homes from the rooftops. George looked at light fingers and smiled, his friend was laying on his stomach, watching the younger boys practice wrestling. "I want to learn to fight 'Fingers." George said to him. "I'm sick of being afraid my mother will be into danger some day and I won't be able to do anything. Do you know of anyone who can teach me the thieves fighting?" George had grown up through the past years. At age 10 he could read, write, and he had never been caught stealing since that night he hid in the alley. He had stolen from merchants from under their noses. Soon he and his mother would be able to move to the house his mother had desired in Corus.

'Fingers, as most called him waited a few moments before saying, "If it's a teacher you be wantin' I know of one of your father's men. He doesn't approve of the king and would be willin' to help a boy grow up to be the next king more honorable than this one got there." George looked inquisitively at Fingers. "He be livin' in Corus, goes by the name o' the Shadow. Guess since yer wantin to be goin there anyhow I could introduce ye." George toyed with the knife he always carried, the one thrown at him by the merchant before the guards started chasing him. His heart was racing with excitement, but by now he had mastered never showing his emotions. 'Fingers was the only one who ever knew his plan and George considered the older boy's advice invaluable.

George smiled wickedly and clapped Fingers on the shoulder. The markets are packed today Fingers, lets go work our magic!" The boys laughed as they raced over the rooftops of the Lower City all the way to the marketplace where they would pick the pockets of many an unsuspecting nobleman, raid merchant stalls, and possibly enjoy ale at Solom's tavern, The Inn of the Dancing Dove, where the king's throne was.


	2. Chapter 2

'Fingers slinked through the alleys with the wary grace of a boy always in danger. George followed him, trying to think of who 'Fingers could be taking him to meet. Only a handful of the men that once followed his father still lived. None of them frequented this area of Corus often. Surprisinglyenough, the area 'Fingers was leading him through so quietly was the middle class side of town. This was where the merchants and scholars lived. The healers who weren't poor like he and his mother were.

'Fingers stopped him with a hand pressed against his chest. Neither of them said a word as 'Fingers did some secret knock on the heavy kitchen door. It was opened quickly and they were hurried inside. "The Master'll be right with ye boys. I'll get ye somethin' to eat while yer waitin'." The buxom woman turned to tell a pretty young girl to go fetch The Master, and went to the stove to fill two plates. George ate silently while 'Fingers talked to the cook. "How has he been lately?" George her him say. He didn't listen to the woman's reply; he was too busy thinking he might finally have a chance. His heart was racing as he heard footsteps in the hall. They were the footsteps of a man, but quiet as a former thief's.

The door swung open and a tall, well muscled man ducked as he stepped through. His face was crisscrossed by knife scars that ran down his neck into his shirt. 'Fingers got up and quickly embraced the man who smiled down at him. "George, this is The Master. You'll learn more of the title soon, he's agreed to train you in the Thieves Arts. Come and see me sometimes, I can't come up here anymore." 'Fingers quickly hugged George and brushed by him, quickly letting himself out. George saw him wipe away a tear as he left, but pretended he hadn't. Why not let his friend keep his dignity?

He looked up at the man who was to be his teacher, and unknown to him, his mentor. He studied him, memorizing the scarred face. The Master, as everyone had so far called him, was very tall. His skin was tanned, and tough from years of dangerous living. His hair was a dark brown, not a streak of gray in it. He shook his hand, marveling at the strength of the other man's grip. "Come with me," the man said as he turned and walked to the study from which he came.

George looked around uneasily. It was obvious that this man was very wealthy. He cringed as he thought of sitting on one of the expensive clothes wearing his filthy rags. Fortunately, his new acquaintance didn't ask him to. "Since we haven't been formally introduced, we may as well get on with the informal introductions. I am Randall Bandit-Master. My position is much like that of the Rogue. I in contrast to him, am much less aloof. He separates himself from his subject in a manner that almost guarantees insubordination of his subject. That, young sir is your first lesson. Never let trouble get past its root. Cut off the head before the body begins to grow or you will be overthrown. Now, who are you, and why are you here. Tell me as if you actually know the reasons and leave nothing out. Don't answer as if you've no idea of why you're still here." He stopped and waited for Georges reply.

"I'm here to be raised into the next Rogue sir. I'm here so you can teach me the skill I'll be needin' to get revenge on the man who killed my father for his throne. I want to make my father proud not shame him. My name is George Cooper and I'm here to learn everything you can teach me." He stifled a sob," My mother and I are poor sir. I cannot pay you with anything other than what I steal. But I need to be able to protect her. I'm tired of feeling helpless. I don't know what to do, see we live in the Lower City; I can't leave her alone there. I don't mean to be rude, but I can't stay here."

The man actually laughed. George stood there with a bewildered look on his face. He didn't know whether he was being laughed at or not. The Master took one look at his face and once again burst into laughter. "You look like you swallowed a toad! Your mother will be taken care of. I will send men with you to fetch her. But we both have our secrets, and I want you to tell her that I am your benefactor. I have a feeling she knows nothing of your plan?" George looked at the floor and shook his head. "Good, you can tell her that I was a friend of your father's and am teaching you how to defend yourself. Tell her that your father told me to look after you if something was to happen to him." He looked at George and smiled, "You wont even have to lie. Wait here while I get my boys to escort you. We will begin your training in the morning. Think of it as a knight's training. You will learn discipline, skills, and cunning. You will also learn strategy and how to keep your subjects in line. Dinner is at sunset."


	3. Chapter 3

George lay in the small, soft bed and thought about all the things that had happened that day. He smiled as he remembered the rush and the bustle to get him and his mother's things to the Master's house. He closed his eyes and tried to remember every detail of the move out of the rat hole that had been his home for nearly half of his life.

He'd run up to rat hole they'd lived in for the better part of his life. His mother had watched him coming, looking worried. When he told her she'd cried, knelt and hugged him fiercely, calling him her beautiful boy. He'd protested when she called him that but had stood up a little straighter, proud and happy that he'd pleased his mother this much. It seemed as if a small whirlwind was going through their tiny hovel, throwing their belongings into the one chest they still owned. Sadly enough all of them fit with room to spare. The men that the Master had sent helped his mother up on the cart seat, boosted him onto the back end, and they went back to their benefactor's house as he daydreamed of things to come.

George rolled on his side looking into the dark where the new chest would be. He was thinking of earlier, how the maids had hurried him into the room where he was to bathe. He didn't like to bathe, sickness came from bathing. He did bathe, but only after one of them promised more surprises when he was clean. He came out wearing the clothes he'd worn for the past two years, cast offs from some older robber boy and the women gasped. They pulled him onto a raised circle in the middle of the room and took his measurements. A new pair of breeches, close enough to his size, was given to him while he waited for his new clothes to be finished. He was given more clean shirts than he'd ever seen in one place. They told him the large chest in the corner was to be filled with new clothes and his other things, smiling as he gazed around him at his new room in awe. "Supper will be served at sunset Master George." He was still too awestruck even to protest at being called master only coming out of his reverie when he smelled the food that was cooking downstairs. This new life was beginning to appeal to him more than ever. Finally he would be able to eat, and learn what he needed to fulfill what he believed was his destiny. He fell asleep smiling, with a full stomach still thinking these thoughts.

Pain. That was the only thought that would go through the thick mush that was now George's brain. He slipped into the hot bath hoping it would ease the fire in his muscles. He struggled to keep his eyes open afraid he'd slip underwater and drown if he fell asleep. Today was the first day of his training to be a master thief. First he was learning the art of fighting barehanded. The Master himself did not fight to train George. He pitted him against another boy, one of his bandits' sons. The Master told George to concentrate on staying out of the boys grip and blocking his punches. As hard as George tried, some of the blows fell and his opponent would eventually have him on the floor using some hold on him with George gritting his teeth against his own cries of pain. Luckily for George the Master made them wear gloves with padding in the knuckles until his students became good enough at blocking punches not to be seriously injured. Still, he had a trail of now-dried blood running down his shirt from when he'd missed blocking a punch to his nose. Wearily he'd sat down when the other boy, who's name was simply Jack, had been given permission to go back to his other studies. The Master had reprimanded him, telling him to stand and wait for his next orders before deciding he was finished. George was made to learn and practice three new exercises. The first was called a press, he had to exercise his chest and arms by making a platform with his body, balancing on his toes and hands and touching his nose to the floor fifty times every night for the first two weeks. George did ten of these and collapsed until the Master jerked him back into position and told him to finish and if he stopped again he'd do fifty more. George, cursing and breathing heavily finished this exercise then began the next, which was easier. He was to lay on his back with his knees bent and his hands behind his head, then lift his knees and head to meet each other. His stomach felt like it was on fire after he did about half but he kept on with it knowing what would happen if he stopped. He was then told to do only 10 of his next exercise, pulling his chin up over a bar set in a doorway, high enough his feet weren't touching the ground. When this was finished the Master smiled at him and told him he'd done better than most and to get to the bath so he could come to supper.

He wearily climbed out of his bath, and put fresh clothes on. He took his soiled ones to the laundress and went to supper. He was practically already asleep while he ate automatically and the Master told him to come to the study to talk with him after he was finished. When George dragged himself there he was told he would begin his formal education tomorrow as well as his thief studies. He would also be awakened early every morning to take a run around the main market square. George bowed to his master as he left the room, dragging himself up the stairs and back to his own room and, after checking that all his belongings were still there, he fell into his bed into immediate, dreamless slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

He was rudely awakened by a hand clapped over his mouth in the blackness of the night. He tried to struggle but then looked into the darkness. A candle's light was being half-hidden and he saw the faces of several boys, with 'Fingers' among them. 'Fingers motioned for George to quietly follow them and they snuck out his window onto the roof of the porch below, then down the ivy covered lattice. He sorely followed them, cursing to himself as his muscles protested after being so over used. He followed them into the attic of another building in the city, with still more boys. They lit candles and then 'Fingers told him.

"These are the thief boys in the city who want you to be part of their brotherhood." Fingers handed him a knife after he said this and George knew he had to do it. If he bested their leader, these boys would be his followers, by code of thief brethren to the death. George took the knife and slashed across his palm, passing the knife to the next boy. One by one they let their blood mix with his as they held their palms together. They took an oath, along the lines of now being blood brothers, watching each others backs, and sticking together until they died. George didn't remember the whole oath, but he was grinning all the way home. He found new strength and quickly pulled himself up the arbor, back into his window and fell into bed for an hour of more sleep.

Before the sun rose George was running the square with Jack. Jack was the quiet type. He did what he was told and did it as best he could. George judged him to be about 14 summers old. He had also noticed he hadn't been among the boys last night, and resolved to watch him. Running was the easiest part of George's training. He'd always loved to run, had been on the run much of his life. Jack was keeping up with George's easy run and George wanted to see how strong he really was. He started to run faster, Jack adjusted his pace easily, and kept up with George no matter how fast he ran. George went back to his original pace and studied Jack. He had sandy blonde hair and tanned skin, as if he was in the sun most of the time. He wasn't a small boy; he was easily a head taller than George was. He was very muscular for his age, he wondered if that was the effects of his training, what George was going through now. George smiled to himself when he thought maybe he would look like that when it was over. They returned to the manor house and George nearly jumped out of his skin when Jack spoke.

"You're to go to the study as soon as you've eaten." He said nothing else and strode down the hall to the kitchen where the cooks served them their honeyed porridge. He silently devoured his meal and tried to think what his formal training would be. Would he learn to read better? To forge letters? Or would he only learn things about how to pick pockets or steal from merchant stalls? He finished his breakfast and quickly strode to the study. He didn't think the Master was a man who should be kept waiting. "Ye were needin' me Sir?" he asked as he looked down at the floor, respectfully of course, not nervously. But if he wasn't nervous why did his stomach suddenly try to tie itself in knots and his heart begin to pound when he asked the question? _No_, he thought to himself,_ I can't be nervous. The king of thieves must be bold._ Slowly, he made the heroic effort to raise his head and look at his master, only to see him looking back and smiling.

"Yes George, I am to tell you about your studies. You will learn everything that is required of you here, and give your best effort to all of them. I will teach you to fight, and my beloved friend John will teach you in formal arts. You will learn from him how to read, write, dance, and how to disguise yourself. You will learn about ruling subjects and the necessary duties of a King. You may not sit in a palace but your people should follow you and depend on you more closely than King Roald. I will teach you how to lead, the rest will be taught to you by John. But I warn you my young friend, do not let your eyes deceive you. It would not be wise to be skipping your lessons. Follow me and I'll show you to the room where Master John awaits. He turned and strode out of the room, opening the doors with such grace and authority that an awestruck George scurried to keep up with his fast pace.

The Master went down the entry hall and took the small door to the right. He walked down this smaller corridor and turned left, walking until he came to a door at the end of the hall. He opened it onto a balcony facing a beautiful garden. The second thing George noticed was an older man, sitting on the narrow balcony rail with a staff across his knees. He turned his head and George saw he had a kind face. He slid off the rail and embraced the Master, then looked around at George.

"Ah, so this is my new student." He looked George over and smiled, "I've been growing tired of not having someone to talk to, you and should get along well. What's your name kid?" George jumped, he hadn't been expecting to be directly addressed just yet.

"G-g-George" He stammered nervously, and then looked up to find his new teacher looking straight into his eyes. Looking into those kind blue eyes his nerves suddenly began to calm. The man smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I am Master John. I will teach you the things that will see you to your destiny. You are a strong boy, and determined. I believe you will reach what you've dreamed of." George looked at him suspiciously and Master John chuckled. "Fingers is my nephew, he lived with me for a long time. I know much about you. Now then, I believe he also mentioned you know how to read?" George nodded and then hurriedly shook his head. "Speak child, I don't know what you mean."

"I know how to read a bit sir, but I'd like to be able to read easier. It's hard for me sometimes to get all the words." Master John laughed. "My mother taught me what I know but she didn't have the energy to teach me any more. We was poor and I was out trying to keep food in our bellies." He scuffed the toe of his boot on the stone floor and was silent.

"Well boy, you are in luck. Here you learn nearly everything any page and squire would and more useful things." He handed George a small book and sat on the balcony again. "Stand and read me the first page I want to see how you do." And thus began the studies of George Cooper.


End file.
